


Win-win situation

by fromthedeskoftheraven



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Battle of Five Armies Fix-It, F/M, Fluff, Humor, Implied/Referenced Sex, Kissing, Love Confessions, Romance, Scheming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-16
Updated: 2016-03-16
Packaged: 2018-05-27 03:19:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6267475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fromthedeskoftheraven/pseuds/fromthedeskoftheraven
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fili competes with Thorin and Dwalin for the chance to court a lady…and gets a little help from an unexpected source.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Win-win situation

The last thing you had expected to hear as you made your way into the armory was your own name, especially in the gruff tones that belonged unmistakably to Dwalin, but there it was. You pulled up short in the vestibule, an irresistible curiosity demanding that you stop and listen, and silently flattened yourself against the wall just outside the door. After the grating, metallic rasp of swords being returned to sheaths, his conversation continued.

“Come on, then, you’re as hot-blooded as any son of Durin, King though you may be. Why not give the old warhammer the chance to see the light of day?“

“Well, when you put it in such romantic terms,” came another well-known voice, rich and deep, and tinged with dry amusement. “How shall this proposition of yours be decided?”

A frown knitted your brows together. What on earth could Thorin and Dwalin have to talk about that concerned you?

“Och, we’ll come up with something that’s fair,” Dwalin said airily. “What about you, lad? Care to try your luck?”

Lad? Your breath stilled as you waited to hear who would answer.

“I don’t know.“ Fili’s voice was doubtful. “Not that I don’t fancy her…but you can’t really win a woman in a game.”

Dwalin’s barking laugh rang out, and you could hear the smile in Thorin’s voice. “Of course you can’t.”

“‘Specially not this one,” Dwalin interjected. “She’s a lively lass.”

“We’re only vying for the chance to woo her,” Thorin went on, in a placating tone. “The choice is the lady’s…for our part, it remains only to decide who shall approach her and who shall step aside.”

“Fair enough,” Fili answered after a pause, his voice taking on an admiring softness. “She’s worth taking a chance.”

You heard the clap of hands being shaken amid chuckling, and heavy footsteps moved in the direction of your hiding place. Like a startled rabbit, you bolted, willing your feet to carry you as far from the armory as possible, mortified by the thought of being discovered eavesdropping, and on such a conversation!

Stopping only when you’d reached your own chambers, you flopped breathlessly onto your bed, your mind spinning with what you’d overheard and what you were to do about it. You had never dreamed of having three men competing for the right to court you, and certainly not three men such as these.

Thorin was devastatingly handsome, to be sure, and you couldn’t pretend not to be flattered that the King under the Mountain himself had looked at you with an eye toward courtship. But deep down, you knew that you craved a lover with a lightness of heart and a sense of fun that the dutiful ruler did not possess.

Dwalin had an undeniable, if rough, charm, but you’d heard enough rumors to harbor concerns that he might be – to put it delicately – too much man for you, and you found your thighs clenching unconsciously at the prospect of him in your bed. 

No, neither of the elder dwarves quite suited you, but Fili…ah, Fili was a different story entirely. Durin’s golden heir, with his dimpled smiles and eyes the color of sunlit pools, had intrigued you from the moment you’d joined Thorin’s company, so many months ago. He had a smoldering gaze that made you feel as if he knew what you looked like in your small clothes, and yet you’d been in tight quarters with him enough to know that he would never take advantage of a lady. His innate selflessness and nobility had endeared him to you further still, and you could even confess to the occasional girlish daydream of Fili wishing to court you…and now, the silly, lovely boy had got himself into a competition for the chance to do just that. 

As you lay staring up at the craggy, stone ceiling, fairly tingling with the delicious thought of claiming Fili as your own, one thing became clear: you wouldn’t stand idly by and let the outcome of the contest be decided for you. If they wanted to play, play they might, but a mischievous smile bloomed on your lips as you began to formulate an idea.

* * *

The next day, you walked purposefully to the armory as soon as you’d finished breakfast and were rewarded with finding Thorin, Dwalin, and Fili there once again, huddled in discussion. All three looked up when you walked in, their secretive expressions quickly turning to polite greetings.

“What brings you here this morning?” Thorin’s tone was studiously casual.

“I thought I’d do a bit of training,” you answered cheerfully. “Can’t let a comfortable bed and fine clothes make me soft, can I?”

They all chuckled in agreement, and you ventured to ask, “and what are you gents up to?”

“Funny you should ask…we were just about to settle a question with a friendly contest,” Dwalin replied, his beard twitching with a grin as he glanced to the other two, and a burst of inspiration seemed to seize him. “I wonder if you might favor us with deciding how it’s to be done.”

“Hmm,” you considered, inwardly overjoyed that your plan was going more smoothly than you’d dared to hope. “Anything I choose?”

“Anything,” Thorin agreed gallantly, and with an effort, you arranged your features into an expression of complete indifference as you gave your answer.

“Very well, then…throwing knives.”

Fili looked as though Yavanna herself had appeared in the armory to bless him, and flashed you a delighted smile, while Thorin and Dwalin exchanged worried looks. 

“Mind if I watch?” you proposed, and only Fili, glowing with confidence, was quick to welcome you to it.

Leaning against a sword rack, you watched Fili win handily, landing blade after blade in the center of the target, just as you’d anticipated. He was smiling and flushed with pleasure when he looked to you, and you felt your own face warm as you granted him a congratulatory nod before quickly turning away to pretend to choose a weapon for the training you had claimed as your purpose in the first place. 

As you surveyed the rack, your ears were tuned to the hushed conversation taking place among the three, and you were able to gather that Fili’s victory had been so decisive as to have been ruled unfair. Sneaking a look, you saw them all nod in agreement, and Thorin and Dwalin left while a deflated Fili lingered behind. You returned your attention to the swords before you, studying them as though you’d never seen one before, and your heart seemed to skip a beat when Fili wandered to your side, distractedly running his hand over the hilt of a wickedly curved blade.

“You were impressive, as ever,” you encouraged, and one of his dimples deepened with a lopsided smirk.

“I’m likely to be less so tomorrow,” he said wryly. “We’re to have a wrestling match, on the riverbank.”

“Wrestling,” you echoed, trying not to look as sympathetic as you felt. Fili was young and robust, but Dwalin was as strong as an ox and had the advantage in size, and your mind raced to think of anything you might do to help Fili’s cause.

“Perhaps you should come and watch,” Fili chuckled, “you gave me good luck today.”

You smiled, though your thoughts were elsewhere. “Perhaps I will.”

* * *

The following afternoon, most of the company had reunited on a grassy patch near the river to watch the wrestling match, some cheeky souls placing bets on the winner, though they little knew the true stakes. You arrived late, thanks to a friend who’d caught you in the corridors for a bit of gossip, and trotted hurriedly to the sidelines just in time to see Thorin and Dwalin, both looking winded, good-naturedly jostling each other as they gulped from flasks of water. 

“What’s happened?” You plucked at Bofur’s sleeve, breathless.

“Dwalin’s bested Thorin, and now Fili’s got to take on Dwalin,” he answered, counting a handful of coins before passing them to Nori.

Fili was stripping off his tunic while Dwalin had a moment to rest between bouts, and you swallowed hard at the sight of his powerful arms and chiseled chest with its dusting of golden hair, averting your eyes so as not to be caught staring. When you looked back, he had noticed you, giving you a twinkle of his eyes and a little shrug, and you threw him an encouraging smile as you drifted to the edge of the little knot of spectators to find a spot that afforded you a better view.

On Kili’s mark, the match began. The two circled each other warily, exchanging grins, before Dwalin abruptly lurched forward, gripping the back of Fili’s neck to attempt to force him to the ground. Fili had agility on his side, however, and twisted out of Dwalin’s grasp, lunging for Dwalin’s waist and bringing him down. Dwalin reacted quickly, shifting his body to use Fili’s momentum against him, and almost before you realized what had happened, he had forced Fili to the ground, the younger dwarf straining to keep his shoulders off of the dirt as Dwalin bore down on him.

A gasp left your lips at this sudden and not unexpected change in Fili’s fortunes, and you knew the time had come to deploy what weapons you possessed in your arsenal. With a deep breath, you shrugged off the shawl that you’d draped over your shoulders, revealing your form in the most low-cut dress you owned, made more scandalous yet by having laced your corset as tightly as you could without sacrificing the ability to breathe. “Come on, Dwalin,” you pleaded in a muttered undertone, “have a look over here.”

Despite the generous display of your precariously hoisted bosom, Dwalin was too much occupied with working to press Fili’s one stubborn shoulder into the earth to be put off. 

_Bugger_. 

Praying that your viselike corset would keep you from offering an even greater distraction than you’d planned, you made an exaggerated gesture of bending low and pretending to idly pluck blades of grass from the turf.

Flicking a glance toward the competitors, you glimpsed Dwalin’s eyes straying to where you posed, raking over your upraised bottom and plumped cleavage. For an instant, his jaw slackened and so, apparently, did his grip, for Fili rose in a flash and used Dwalin’s arm for leverage to flip his surprised opponent, neatly pinning his shoulders to the ground. You raised yourself to stand again, beaming, as the watching dwarves broke out in applause and gleeful hoots, and the clinking of coins changing hands ensued. Fili’s gaze sought you, his eyes widening appreciatively, and the pair of you exchanged laughing smiles before he was enveloped in congratulatory handshakes and slaps on the back, and in the merry chaos, you took the opportunity to quietly slip away.

* * *

Dusk had fallen, cool and candlelit, and you were just putting the finishing touches on a simple supper when a knock came at the door of your chambers. Opening it, you found Fili, looking freshly scrubbed and clutching a bouquet of wildflowers, his warm smile tinged with some nameless and not entirely unpleasant agitation.

“Fili.” You could not pretend you weren’t pleased to see him, and there was an unnerving fluttering as of tiny wings in your chest.

“Evening,” he inclined his head, pausing on the threshold before asking, tentatively, “may I come in?”

You stepped back from the doorway, gesturing to the room to invite him inside before closing the door, and he gave you a smile of gratitude and seemed suddenly to remember the flowers in his hand.

“These are for you,” he said gallantly, extending the blooms, and you smothered a knowing grin as you took them and retrieved a vase from the cabinet, arranging the bouquet as a centerpiece on the table.

“Thank you, Fili. They’re beautiful.” 

He seemed pleased, and nodded, and silence fell between you while he glanced about the room as though searching desperately for his next topic of conversation. It quickly struck you as absurd that two people who had marched and fought and slept alongside each other for months on end should now stand on ceremony, and you leaned against the dining table with an amused twinkle in your eye.

“So,” you said lightly, “has the victor come to collect the spoils?”

Alarm flickered over his handsome features. “Spoils?” He shook his head, but a red flush had begun to creep up his neck. “I don’t…I don’t know what you mean.”

“You’re an awful liar, Fili,” you answered, arching an eyebrow, though you smiled as you added, “it’s one of the things I like about you.”

His mouth opened and closed twice, soundless, like a fish out of water, and at last he winced in defeat. “You know about the contest?”

“I heard the three of you talking in the armory,” you confessed. “Wrong place at the right time, I suppose.”

“Oh, what you must think of me,” he groaned miserably, “agreeing to such a thing, and now coming here like this, as though I were entitled–”

“Fili,” you interjected, stepping close to lay a comforting hand on his shoulder, “I’m not angry with you.”

“I swear to you, I never thought of you as a prize to be won,” he vowed, looking pleadingly into your eyes.

“I know,” you assured him, adding with a chuckle, “I’ve met enough cads to know a good man when I see one, and you wouldn’t have crossed my threshold if I didn’t believe you to be honorable.”

A wry smirk pulled one corner of his mouth upward, and he sighed. “Forgive me?”

“Forgiven and forgotten,” you promised.

His smile grew, became more genuine, and his hand crept beneath his hair to rub the back of his neck. “Well,” he said ruefully, “it seems you know where I stand.” His gaze grew apprehensive. “Have I any hope that you might…fancy me in return?”

Your cheeks flamed with a rush of desire and heady nervousness. “I wouldn’t have helped you win if I didn’t.”

He frowned, and then the realization lit his eyes. “You chose throwing knives on purpose.”

“You didn’t think I traveled with you from Ered Luin to Erebor and failed to notice you could take out a goblin’s eye from here to the Front Gate, did you?” You grinned mischievously, going on to confess, “and I may have provided Dwalin with a small distraction this afternoon.”

Fili gave a short huff of laughter, nodding. “Durin himself would have been distracted by the sight of you in that dress.” A bashful giggle escaped your lips, and he crossed his arms thoughtfully over his chest. “So, in a manner of speaking, I won by cheating.”

“Are you going to propose a rematch?” You were suddenly gripped with the worry that he might be too honorable for his own good.

“Not a chance,” he grinned, and you joined him in a conspiratorial laugh that slowly faded, leaving you looking at each other with an eager curiosity, and the air in the room seemed to have changed somehow. Fili reached to brush your hair behind your shoulder, his eyes glancing fleetingly over the smooth skin of your neck, and he murmured, “so what do we do now?”

A smile tugged at your lips, and you found that you felt suddenly breathless. “Is there something you wanted to ask me?”

“Aye.” His hands ventured to rest on your waist, drawing you ever so gently nearer, and his voice was low, resonant, with a longing smokiness that made you weak. “I wanted to ask if a fierce, clever, _distractingly_ lovely woman like yourself might do me the honor of wearing my courting braid.”

He was so close…so close you could breathe the scent of soap and leather and spice that hung about him, and your hands on his hard, muscled upper arms pulled him through the mere inches of air between you to meet your lips with his own.

Fili was not your first kiss, but, sweet Mahal, at that moment you only wanted him to be your last. He kissed you like a man who’d found water in the wilderness, like the light of the arkenstone itself shone in your eyes. His lips were soft and searching and generous, his hands instinctively protective even in the heat of their caresses, and when he held you close to his broad chest and pressed his lips to your forehead before resting his own against it, you felt as though his embrace was anchoring you to the earth, saving you from floating away. Your eyes met his, and you exchanged giddy smiles, his arms squeezing you just a little more tightly.

“Would you like to stay to supper?” you grinned, and he chuckled.

“I’d love to stay to supper.” 

You made no move for the table. His lips found yours again and your fingers delved into his thick hair, weaving his sighs into the breath you shared as you tenderly stroked his scalp.

“Mmm,” you hummed, a shiver running down your spine when your impassioned nibble at his neck evoked a small groan and his hand drifted to the upper curve of your bottom, pressing you close to him, “…and perhaps breakfast.”

Fili’s laugh rumbled in his throat, and his hands moved to cradle your cheeks, letting him look into your eyes with admiration and not a little wonder. A playful smile crept over his face, and his voice was teasing.

“I’m going to name our first son for Dwalin.”

Your head fell back in a hearty chuckle, and you wondered, “would that be to thank him, or to gloat?” 

His lips curved into that irresistible, rakish smirk that had caught your eye the day you’d met him.

“Both.”


End file.
